


Games

by waterbird13



Category: Leverage
Genre: Carnival, Fluff, Gen, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Parker, with the largest stuffed animal.





	Games

People always underestimate Parker.

People think she’s an easy mark, a good sell, and it’s really been helpful as a grifter, if she remembers everything Sophie taught her.

She’s not here to grift. She’s here to eat cotton candy and fried dough and maybe, this time, figure out why people get so excited about these lame rides. She’s never really gotten the point—sure, the ferris wheel goes kinda high, for a normal person, but you’re all restrained in that stupid little car, not jumping or hanging or anything, their shouting is really unneccsary—but you never know; she figures out normal people things all the time now.

There’s a third option, it turns out: Games. And the carnival workers think she’s an easy mark, calling out for her, promising easy prizes, trying to get her attention.

She narrows her eyes, studying the situation. She can see that every item is rigged, that the basketball hoop is too small, that the rope is too wobbly, the balloons under-inflated.

Amateurs.

It’s the rope one that really draws her eye. The people pay money to climb a rope ladder over an inflatable hill. They fall, every single time.

Pepper narrows her eyes and studies them for just a moment, figuring out where they go wrong, what makes them fall. She spins it in her head, like a model, sees the faults of the game and the players.

Easy-peasy. She has five bucks in her pocket, but Parker is loathe to part with her own money. So she steals closer to the game and, when the carnival worker is distracted by another customer, steals twenty bucks right out of the till.

“I’d like to try!” She announces, all big, fake smiles, like Alice.

The carnival worker eagerly takes her money—not at all aware of where it came from, Parker frowns, seriously, how can normal people be so unobservant?— and gestures expansively for Parker to approach. Parker eyes the rope ladder and smiles, leaning in to get a good grip on it.

Then she climbs it in a flash, at the top before anyone even processes her starting.

The rope is designed to have a lot of sway, to make it harder for people to win. The trick, Parker knows, is to be so fast it doesn’t even have time to wobble.

Besides, it’s easy. All she has to do is get both hands on the red bar. She doesn’t need to avoid lasers or squeeze through a vent in the middle or do this fifty feet up.

Like she said: amateurs.

People are staring as she climbs down, going backwards down the ladder. She grins.

“You win!” The carnival worker says, amazement still in their voice.

So Parker bounces a bit and turns to the wall of prizes. “I get a big one, right?” she asks, and, when it’s confirmed, starts examining all the big prizes.

Most of them are pretty ugly, but Hardison has taught her that sometimes, the ugliest things mean something. Look at his stupid orcs, or Old Nate.

One particularly ugly creature sticks out to her. Sure, the bear is bright orange, and has sparkles on its stomach. But that’s not what’s most appealing. There’s just something about the face.

So she gets a stuffed bear that is as tall as she is. “Careful, there,” some stranger cautions as she slings it over her back, causing her to frown. It’s not like it’s heavy. It’s made of fluff and fur.

It fills the entire passenger seat on the ride home, and attracts some stares at the pub. She sits it on the briefing room couch and then goes about her afternoon, making a snack out of fortune cookies and Lucky Charms.

“Parker, the hell is this?” Hardison calls.

She pokes her head out of the kitchen. “That’s Eliot-Bear,” she announces.

She hears stomps from the front door. “Eliot…bear?” Eliot asks, voice trailing off when he sees the bear. “Parker, why the hell is this thing named after me?”

“Look at his face!” Parker insists, stepping back in to get her cereal.

Hardison hoots in laughter. “Almost as grumpy as Eliot,” he agrees.

“Shut up, I ain’t—”

“Wait ‘til I send a picture to Sophie,” Hardison announces, and Parker finishes her cereal, leaning against Eliot-Bear, to the sound of the two of them bickering.


End file.
